DLLC: The Quantum Paradox
by 4LD
Summary: Science; the systematic knowledge about the universe. Imagine if one day, everything you knew about it was suddenly challenged. One young man delves into a universe alien to his own, one so familiar, yet so foreign. This is his story.
1. Dysthymic Dealings

Mathematics. Equations. Graphs. All of that seems to just fly over my head today. It's hard to say why I'm so distracted. Maybe the impending weekend, or maybe it being the last class makes me drowsy by it's very nature.

Not that I hate it entirely. Without it, science is impossible.

Really, the way they teach mathematics is stupid, putting it bluntly. If only it was taught as intuitively as science my grades wouldn't look like a parabolic function.

I tap on my desk.

My feet follow rhythmically.

The ink flows into a dark puddle.

The last bell rings, singing off the end of the school week. The analog clock seemed to be infinitesimally slow as it ticked down to it.

Quite fitting when calculus is the subject, I suppose. Life has a way of making things poetic when you try to analyze surface level phenomena like that.

I pack up my things, and leave class first. The last thing I want is to be called by the teacher for some extracurricular work. I have enough piled up as is.

The din is quite audible from the stairwell into which I descend, to which the tweens contribute most to. People are pushing each other recklessly on the stairs.

I go down the path of least resistance; or noise, rather.

The monotony of footsteps against asphalt. Another day ends, uneventful as ever.

Really, there is not much I have to look forward to when I go back. Just me and my laptop.

School was the only other place I'd visit apart from being recluse at home. Either from a lack of friends, or lack of want, I did not know.

Life is unfair. Words I repeat to myself on the daily.

I deliberate, wondering whether or not I should talk to friends on my way back. I use the word friends here sparingly.

Most of them can hardly be called that. A namesake thing, I suppose.

Do people ever befriend the others for altruistic reasons?

I wonder that to myself, slowing pace a little.

The sweltering heat does not make this any easier to walk through. It's summer, after all.

The long walk through the school grounds is quiet. Maybe too quiet.

"Hi." A voice greets me. They cup their hands around my eyes from behind. The fingers are soft.

I sigh, knowing instantly who this is. "Karen, you could've blinded me if you weren't careful."

"Hehe, sorry." She laughs, nonchalant. "You looked so lonely walking all by yourself. I thought I'd tag along!"

I look her in the eye. Her deep purple eyes give off a glint of unmistakable mischief. We've known each other for ages, and she does fool around with me often. It's all with good intentions, though. I think I should be expecting this kind of behavior more often from her.

She looks like every other girl in my school, with a sky blue shirt, indigo jacket and an indigo skirt to match. Her fancy black sneakers also stand out, but I conveniently forget which brand it is.

"Not the best day." I sigh, lifelessly. I can only imagine how depressing I sound already.

To be fair, I lent homework to three people, and they all conveniently forgot to bring it to school today.

I'd be fine with it, if it weren't for the fact that my grades were making the Mariana Trench look like a joke.

"Don't worry too much about it." Karen slaps my back, smiling. She tries to lift the mood as she does with sheer optimism. "It happens."

Bad things, mostly. I seem to have a cloud of bad luck chasing me in every endeavor since high school began.

"Happens too much." I reply. "It gets tiring. Everything is tiring." Studies. Friends. And college. A multitude of things my mind can't seem to conjure at the moment, too.

Karen sighs, knowing what I suffer from. She's one of the very few people I trust with that fact.

Dysthymia. I can fake smiles, and everyone won't realize a thing, but I can't run from myself. That's the sad reality.

Not even my parents know. They're too busy working to make ends meet. I can't blame them. Telling them about it would only make more complications.

Even if she won't admit it, she's a natural leader. A supportive one. Especially during moments like this, when her serious demeanor makes me, an already large person humbled by her aura.

"You should take better car of yourself, you know." She looks glum, which is rare to see. "It's painful watching it happen, helplessly, knowing I can't do anything if I'm not around."

Something about the delivery of those words, and the genuineness of it makes me feel guilty for being the cause of her anxiety.

In a way, she's scared of something that I loathe on a subconscious level, as well.

Feeling like being a burden on other people for just existing.

She knows I feel like this, and it's a horrible, vicious cycle.

The wind picked up, letting her fairly long brown hair loosely swaying in the wind.

Ever since playing DDLC, I've tried to be more optimistic and supportive of her, as she always does for me.

The game made me come to terms with a lot of things, for the better.

"Karen... Sorry to make you worry like that." I apologize, as sincerely as I can come off. The last thing I want to do is bring down her with me. She smiles, if only briefly. "Life just feels like a mess, that's all." I slowly walk up to her, sweeping away her hazel brown bangs as I give her a reassuring hug.

She exhales. For being such a hot day, I actually don't mind the extra warmth she emanates during the brief embrace.

The question of who would notice and care about one's presence is one that can only truly be thought of by lonely folk.

So, it feels comforting, knowing at least one person would lament my loss, if I ever were to go missing, for one.

"As long as you take good care of yourself. I won't always be there, even though I try my best." I catch her melancholic smile as she reminds me of a bitter truth.

Karen has been more of my family, than she is a friend, now that I look back on it.

She comes over and helps me with the most menial tasks, even if I don't thank her for it.

There's no incentive, nothing in particular that powers her motives. And for someone so used to a system of equivalent exchange, it confuses me.

But, it's something of a refreshing change.

"I know." I'm the first the leave the hug.

I ruffle her hair, something I've not done in a long time. Probably because the last time I've done it and been this happy in her presence was back in middle school.

Back when my problems weren't things to worry about.

She's taken aback, but she smiles. I can't help but smile too, if only for that second.

She punches me on the shoulder, abruptly. "You owe me ice cream."

I raise an eyebrow.

Did I?

"Someone wanted to buy Rocket League, didn't they?" She smirks, a devilish grin growing. "No ice cream, no co-op." She smiles, knowing victory is hers.

And she's right. I couldn't refuse even if I wanted to. Some things are just better together.

* * *

I enter my home, exhausted. I really should get more sleep. I sometimes lament how my floor just so happens to be on the roof, on a day when my lift is under maintenance. On the plus side, I do get some scenic sunsets from out the window.

No one is home, as expected. I flick some switches on. I grab some bread and make a quick PB and J sandwich. For some stupid reason I forgot to make breakfast today.

Now that I've sated my appetite, I can finally go to my room without worrying about collapsing any second.

I mean, sure, ice cream is great, but it works only for so long in 50 degree centrigrade weather.

I push the door open as I sling my bag to the side, where it won't interrupt me for the remainder of the day.

I take a seat on the bed, my mind muddled up with wondering what to do.

Usually, I would pick up the controller and play something on my laptop... But today, something inside of me resists that primal urge of mine.

Not like me at all, honestly.

I lie on the bed, with no immediate plans in mind. The room is slightly dimmed; a preference I've always had, despite the suns looming about.

I stare at my fingers. They quiver.

I quit the mundane act and sit up on the bed, having a little glance at the closed laptop.

It was essentially what one would call my lifeline. Literally everything I did was on it, or my phone.

I uncomfortably wonder if I'm going to become a shut in after I move out. I shake those thoughts away as I grab a book from the shelf.

I grab my headphones from the corner, listening to my custom playlist.

 _She'll be here in a few hours, so what better way to kill time than read?_

Science fiction.

It's probably not everyone's cup of tea, but it sure is mine.

Concocting these stories must be daunting. Keeping things consistent and accurate must really be a pain. I wouldn't know.

As luck would have it, I'm pretty good in the many sciences.

I just don't practice much, is all. Maybe if I turned the time I spent reading sci-fi to my studies, I wouldn't have to worry so much.

And as with any good book, I'm reeled in for what must be hours. I stop where the protagonists encounter a wormhole. If there's ever a point in time where I should stop to process a new environment, it should be now.

Some of that interest makes me want to play Spore. Old game, but it's plenty of fun just screwing around for what it is.

I pry open the lid. The laptop whirrs as it boots up, as slow as a snail. It was old, but reliable. Enough to play VNs like DDLC to just barely getting by Skyrim on ultra low.

If there was ever a time for an overdue upgrade, it was now.

Speaking of DDLC, it was one of those gems that you never expect to change your life. The kind that makes you introspect, and ponder upon the littlest things. If it hasn't happened to others, it definitely happened to me.

Sometimes the universe just conspires against you. Sometimes things won't go your way.

Sometimes things are inevitable.

It's probably a bad idea to touch those topics while I'm already in a messy state of mind.

I decide my phone is worth checking while waiting for the sluggish computer.

A ring startles me as I slowly lose concentration on the screen. A message.

"Is the power out for you too? I'm using my cellular data!"

What?

I couldn't catch who exactly it is, but I do notice from the curtained windows that the entire vicinity is entirely powerless. Except my building. Odd.

Power outages are normal, but in my area we usually get a heads up. Something must've really gone wrong if they couldn't get word out earlier.

Curiosity gets the better of me as I face the door leading to my apartment terrace.

I shield my face almost immediately. The wind is blowing hard.

And hard seems to be an understatement, because I struggle to keep my own two feet balanced.

It spontaneously causes the metal door to slam wide open and against the wall, luckily where I am not.

This cannot be a dust storm. It cannot be the weather either. Whatever is causing it, I cannot see, as I struggle to keep particulates from coming into my eyes.

The sky wasn't the sickly shade of turmeric that it usually turns to when dust storms happen. My mind races.

What the hell can bring in so much dust if it hasn't swept the entire area already? It's barely been seconds!

And what brings down the power grid for a while area?

I run forth, blindly, reflexively, as my urge to quell my curiosity grows. If there was ever a fight or flight response for my body, it left flight alone for quite a while back.

I silently think to myself I'm a little fortunate I'm good at football, or else I'd be in a pickle.

Seemingly like a hurricane, it seems to get calmer as I reach the 'eye' of the storm.

The rising, swirling dust is no longer a problem. But what is in front of me is. I finally open my eyes to see the source. Something feels very wrong. Very, very wrong.

What is in front of me... words cannot do this enigma justice.

There is no string of words that one could put together that aptly describes what I'm looking- nay, feeling right now.

I seem to be ripped apart and somehow compacted as tiny as possible at the same time.

And yet, in front of me is a void of nothingness. Darker than the darkest black, yet surrounded by brightness whiter than pure marble.

My life seems to be both stuck in the moment, yet at the same time feeling like I'm seeing the universe flash before my eyes.

It feels like being born, but also dying simultaneously.

This disparity is confusing.

So much so that I can feel my very sense of self fading.

For the very first time in my life, my eyes and brain are not in sync. I cannot comprehend what I am feeling and what I am seeing. What I am feeling.

I was once told was nothing that is impossible in this world. No one told me to brace for something like this.

I would laugh if I could; I proved the saying, "Curiosity killed the cat."

As I feel my consciousness slip, one last thing comes to mind.

T̢̛ͯ͛̎̔̓ͮ́́͏̹͉̮̼̲̹̭̬̟̞̙h̴̨̜̹̖̹͍̣͕̓̅̇̓̾͂͟ǐ̷̏̑ͥͮ͑̀̊͌ͧ͑ͪ͜҉̡̯̱̘͔̰̙̙̘̥͕̲̤̤̦͇̟̦ş̯̹̯̮̱̰̋͒ͦ̈̃̊ͪͭͬ̽ͤ͗͛ͯ̍͐̉̀̑͢͡͝ ̶̧̛̘̥͈̟̲͓̠̲̟̦̖͇̬̗͂ͦ̀̔ͨ͐ͬ͛͋̊͊̃͢m̵̨̧̻͓̘͕̱̺̺̺̦͖̳̯̖͆ͮ̊̃͟͢u̷̵̷̱̟̥̝̻ͣͪ̓ͯ͐̆ͦ͒̎͐͂̾̓͗͒͋̃s͈̼̗̜̔̓̃̀̊̽̃ͨ͐ͣ̃ͩ̑ͧ̇̚͢͠͝t̨̛̗̦̲̱̬̹̖̟͍͉̖̮̟͕̪̣ͫ͒ͯ̓ͤ̂̋̾ͧͬ̊ͤ̉͆̅̚͘͞ ̶͔̬̦̝̹̰̠̜͖̜͎͓̣͗̂͌͆̆́͝b̋̈́ͤͧͣ͋͛̉͐̽̓̌͐̚͏̶̷͔̩̻̪̣̲̗̳̼͙̮̯͍̼̦͙͖̺́e̹̫̝̣̼̮̪̫̭̮̬̟͔̱͔̰̲̞͋ͦ̊̈́ͫ̀͟͢ ̢͒͌͛̈ͧ̌̽͌͋̏ͩ́̌́̈́҉͙̤̤͙̞̻̱í̙̺̮̹̯̲̫̙͍͔̦̠̝̯̥̲̯̤̾ͧͦ͋̏̐̈̈̀̿ͭ̊ͬ̉̀͑͟͡͞͠ņ͔̺̰̦͒ͤ̄̅ͥͯ͆ͪ͋̎ͮ͐͗ͣ̚̚͟f̶̧͈̰̘̫͙̤̣̟͉̱̗̭̳̄̈́͊ͤ̍ͯ̄̿̓̍ͭ̇͢͜͠ͅͅi̸̸̛̪̣̘͍̮̞̜̫̞̝̞̣͗̌ͣͦ́n̹͓̪̖̭̥͇͐ͩͮͫ͑ͯͨ͑ͥ̓ͦ͌̀͞i̧̓̄̊ͬ͏͍͖̣̼̕̕͘t̷̴̨͉̝̼͕̞̣̳̻̭́̇ͣͥ͂͂̋͢͞ẙ͎̣̝̤̻̦̣͔̝̘̟̺̱̔̎͐̃̍ͩͭͤ̍̌̂͜͝ͅ;̨̲͙̯̣̰̮̫̔ͧ̈ͨͥͧ̏͂ͩ͂ͥͫ̄ͮ͗̈̾̚̕ ̵̧̡̡͈̟̞̖̻̰͓̠̠̫̥̳͇͎ͫ͊̃̐ͧ̑̈̌̚͞t̵̵͈̜̜̤̲̲͎̻͓̪̟̤͔̞̖̪̿̿͂̎̑̉̅ͧ̍̀͐ḣ̞̹̥͎̖͈̼͙̯̋̾͑̍̃̾ͪ̅͌́ͥ̈͛͑͝e̸̢̛̠̼̘͇̩͂͗͗ͥ̉̊̾͌ͧ͌̚̚͝ ͯ̉̒ͣ̓͐̄ͣ̊̓͛̄̇͗̏̌͏̷̤͇̦̩̙̮̞̲͈̟͇̞c̸̸̩̝͍̳̫̳ͫ̄̉̅̈͑̎̃̋̾ͯ́͠o̢͍̺͖̥̤̱͈̱͍̟ͮ̔̒̋͡ͅͅṋ̮̲̖̹̔͌́ͦ͒̎̔ͥ̎̓̎ͬͦ͌́͢͢͞͝c̢͚͇͈̳̣̟̳̖̼̙͈̝̩̩ͫ͂̈́ͯ͗ͨ͐̓ͯ̉ͦ̕̕e̢̺̟̲̮̦̻̪̜͚͚̭̱̠͇̝̒̾̍̓̌̄ͤͪ̚͟͝͠p̷̢͍̤̫̬̖̯̾̆ͯ̉̆͑ͨ͑̎̿̾̒͗ͯ͑ͥ́͜ͅͅt̷̡̲̗̹̲̜̩̙̪̲͎̠̳͈̦̣̖͈̞ͩͫ͆ͣ̊̍͛̉̌̾̆ͧ̍̾̏̍͠ ̵̷̡̬͔̝̼̺̳̼̜̫̜̬ͯ̃ͪ̈́̔̽ͯm̷̶̷̘̳̺͈͙̹̻͓̦̪̤͖͔̟̥̙̊͗ͨ̋͒̎͌̀ͨͭ̈́ͨĕͥ̆̓̅̂ͬ̑́͏̟̺͇̦͔͍̬͕̲̳͈̮͔r̃͛͐̉ͧ͏̷̡͍̼̙̤̜̱̪͕͚̟̝̮͎̼͓͜ͅẹ̙͚̪̙͈̗͇̻̗̙̭͈͙̋̿ͬͭ͑̇́͘ ̪̮̯̗̜̪̝͈͇͚̭͆ͩͮͫ̿̿̉ͩ͡ͅh̜̺̼̙ͫ͌̀̏͋̇ͫ͝͡u̢̎͗̑ͪ҉͇̪͔̼̙̰͈̙͚̱̰͙̬̪̀m̵̛̭͇͙̦̬̻̬̼̬͖̪͎̩̩̄͐ͪ̉̇͑̆ͯ̾ͨ̌͘͞͝ͅaͫ͛͛ͧ̐̔ͨ͂̇ͯ͊̆ͥ̋̃͗ͤ҉̹͚͇̼̼͔͖̝̝̲̬̟̫̫̪̹̞̬́͡n̵̨̘̪͇̝͔͕͙̰͓͈̮̼̪͔̣͖̽̆͌ͩͤ͂̌́͜ͅ ̴̵͇͖̰͈͔̭͒ͧ͋̀̇͜͠m̸̧̮̙̯̝̗̲̥͚̺̝̦̪̹̘̗̼̂ͭ͛ͤͭ̍͋̎̑ͤͩ̏͊̄ͣͯ̓i̷̡ͩ̅̅ͤ͢͞͏̠̪͔͉̯͔̲̮͙̱̜̖̼̝̥n̩̱̮͍̻̣̗̺͈͎͇̮͍͇̣͒͗ͫ̿̃̑͊͒̀̉̃̓͑̾̂͋̓ͮ̕d̸̸̼̻̘̼̗̬̦̺̖̪ͯ́͗̀͢s̷͑̂̍ͫ͗ͭ͆̓̃̊̎͏̶̛͔͔̱͍̹̗̗͇̯̘͔̳̫̹̘̹̰͚ ̷̜̜͚̟͉̞̬ͯͧ̅̈͗ͣͤ̑́̿ͣ̓̔ͪ͒̆ͦͨͮ́ç̷̴̢͚̯͇̹̙̭̉̽ͥ̉ͨ͊̑̌̈̒̑̇ͧ̊ͣ̆̽a̷̧̡̭̣̩̳̺̳̠ͬͮͧ̏n͂͊̇ͯ͌͐̆̔̈́̏͒͑ͤ͐ͥͫ҉͟͡͏̩̗͕͓̼̯̲̞̥̤͕̞͎̮̣͉̦n̸̡̯̹͙͔̰̻̪ͮ͒͛̀͜o̷̡͈͉͉̰̠̬̭͓͎̝̞͛̔̾͊͂̑͘͟͝t̑͊ͯͨͩ̇ͧ͌̔͛ͦ͠͏̳̤̞̥̲̰̻̝͈̪́͟͡ ͥͨ̑ͩ̎̑́̊̈́̚̚͏͖̰͙̯̖͎̞̩͎̲̕g̵͙͔͍̜͉̳͙̳̹̱͎͖̗̯ͩͣͣ̈́̎̇̊ͣͮͩ̅̀́͢͟ͅr̡̨̨̠̝̖̓͌̉͊̃͗͑̑̽ͧ͑̚͟͢ȁ̷̼͇̙͇͓̹ͧ̅ͫ̃ͫ̊̊͑ͬ̈́̑ͤͭ̂̚̚͜s̅͒̇̾̓͐̃͒ͭ̚͏̟̰̹̮̪̱͘͢p̵̴̵̡̲̤̮̩͖̻̘̦̓ͩ̊͆̓͠ͅ.̸̵̛͕̯̪̺͈͈͔̦̭̘̗̰̦̩ͪ͛͗ͪ

* * *

A/N: Yes, your eyes aren't deceiving you. After my... quite honestly, ungodly long hiatus, I've come to the conclusion that I've strayed way too far from what I originally envisioned of it. As a result, I'm redoing the chapters, retconning things I found to be, quite frankly, useless, and confusing, and being a bit more true to the image I had when starting this journey with you all.

College has taken its toll on me, and that's all I'll say. My words; or lack thereof, should be enough to say that, while not being the most pleasant thing in the world, has helped me refine and focus on making a far experienced storyteller. I hope I can make it up to whoever is still reading my little work of fiction with this revamped take on the tale I never got to finish. See y'all soon. :)


	2. Phantom Pain

What is nothing? Sure, call me stupid for asking something so fundamental, but give it a thought.

Personally? I'd say its the lack, the absence of something. Something which has no light is perceived to be black, but... try thinking of no color.

It works in the same vein as trying to think of nothing. You simply cannot; by thinking of 'nothing' you're thinking of something.

The human brain requires stimuli to function, so these void existences cannot be comprehended; there's simply nothing to pick up on.

And, as I once heard, prolonged lack of exposure to stimuli can make one go mad.

Where I am... It's hard to say. A limbo? Everything is nothing, as far as my nonexistent sight goes. All I know is this void encapsulates my very being.

It's what I can only describe as the oddest out of body experience ever. I know I exist, and can compile thoughts, but I have no body to interact with the world; or lack thereof.

I feel like it was only moments ago I entered this nigh filled realm, but at the same time feel like eons have passed, and I've forgot what it's like to commandeer a walking, talking body.

Just then, I feel it.

The one thing I had taken for granted all my life.

Stimuli.

It rushed, striking me like a million fires burning the fibers of my very being. And while I loathed the pain, I couldn't have been any happier that I could feel things again. Feeling pain is what makes one human, after all. My brain undergoes a sensory overload, like information splashes about akin to a wild torrent.

Then my ears follow, ringing louder than anything I'd ever have heard. My eyes burn; the sensation of countless infernos lashing at it. My skin tingles in a way no horror or thriller film has ever made me, and the oh so familiar metallic taste of blood permeates my mouth. I struggle to breathe a lungful.

With every mouthful of air, I cough, hack and sputter. It hurts, but getting oxygen to my brain is a must. I won't let myself go down without a fighting chance before I can even stand up!

My hands quiver. I just need to get up. Slow and steady. Once my breathing normalizes, and my vision clears up again, I can understand for certain that I haven't died. Not yet, at the very least.

Apart from my mind, my heart has taken quite the beating too. It thumps and beats against my chest with such aggressive tenacity, that if I didn't know any better, I'd think it was ready to burst right through me!

This pain is horrible. I want it to leave me as fast as possible. Any more of it, and I'm sure my body will succumb.

Thankfully, it does.

But, what doesn't leave me is the question:

 _"Just what the hell can induce pain to such a degree?"_

It really is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. No one should ever go through that, ever.

On opening my eyes, I notice something off.

I don't remember seeing cherry blossoms near my vicinity, ever. I've never seen one in person before, but I can tell for a fact that it is one.

So why is every tree in the distance one now?

Not just that, instead of a hard, cold concrete, I'm lying on a lush, green patch of grass.

Even the temperature is off! As someone who's been used to arid climate all their life, I can tell this is somewhere which has a temperature of something in the low 20's.

 _What kind of demented dream allows for such a vividly interactive environment?_

Well, there's one surefire way I can tell if this is some sick conjecture of my mind, or not. I should find something to read. It is impossible to read during dreams, and that is fact. Ultimately, all it should look like is gibberish, and any sense of reading is ultimately an illusion under the pretense of pattern recognition.

Propping myself against the hard trunk near me, I rise to my feet, which leads to my feet sending a massive burst of pain up my spine. One thing I'm glad to have in this strange place is an indomitable will to subsist.

Looking around for further clues as to ascertain my location, I reason that I'm in a park of sorts; benches dot my periphery, and a sizable gate lines the perimeter nearby.

I sigh a little, knowing that even though I'm halfway decent at planning, this is as far as my long term planning goes for now. I simply don't know where on earth I've woken up on, and for all I know, is some crazy, contrived dream.

There's a road nearby, which means signs. Signs that I should, or rather, _shouldn't,_ be able to read. I walk towards the junction, and am left in a bit of a daze, to put it subtly.

For starters, I _can_ read it.

Okay, maybe reading is stretching it, but the sign isn't gobbledygook in the slightest. In fact, it's some sort of Japanese script; kanji or katakana, if I was to take a guess.

The only reason I know this is because of a friend far more proficient in the language pushed me to try learning it myself, if the anime I watched didn't motivate me enough. Well, to you, I thank, my weaboo pal. You just _might_ have made me realize how very messed up this whole situation I've gotten myself is.

Yeah, it took some time, but its finally sunk in. My mind races.

 _I'm lost._

Yeah, not exactly happy thoughts to have.

 _Probably in Japan, with absolutely nothing. Nothing but..._

Huh. I didn't think about it till now, but it makes perfect sense to check.

 _My phone!_

I frantically frisk through my pant pockets. And surely enough, I find it where I last left it. There's absolutely nothing that could make me feel the same sense of relief that I did on finding it. If it works, it very well could be my most important tool. The screen lights up, but something on the screen exacerbates my current woes.

No GPS, no cellular service. There's absolutely no way to tell where I am. No way to contact anyone I know.

 _Way to make my optimism go down the drain._ I can use offline translation, though. I just remembered that, as gimmicky as it is, it is a handy tool to have for vacations.

Apparently, I'm on some Bugendai Street.

Come to think of it, the place I'm in. This suburb.

 _Haven't I seen it before?_

Is it from some anime I've seen, lost to time, or some game? It's at times like this when I wish I nitpicked things like backgrounds more often, since they don't hold my attention for too long.

It's awfully quiet, now that I've calmed myself down, and not yelled at myself in fear or panic for five minutes.

 _Where is everyone?_

Looking to the sky, I realize it's likely midday, when people are off to work, and children suffer in an educational establishment. That leaves plenty of time for me to figure where to crash. I'm not going to die of a cold before I possibly get jailed for trespassing!

I haven't even been here for an hour, and this place is testing both my sanity and moral compass, which are trying their best to stay stable.

After exploring house after house, for a good hour, I find a one with an odd house plate.

Unlike the rest of them, this one has no family name, which I'd think would come as a result of being weathered with age and time. The lawn seems to support my line of thought, as it looks as unkempt as my bedhead hair.

It's not all bad, though. The house, on the other hand, seems to have taken it a lot better. It's still almost as good as the others, if I didn't know any better.

This is exactly what I've been looking for. Still... I can't help but feel a growing unease envelop my very being. It's not the morality of breaking into a home that brings this feeling upon me, but rather how far apart this whole situation is as a whole.

This place is supposed to be Japan, right? It's strange, but I almost get the feeling it isn't. It just seems a little too... how do I put it?

Unsettling.

Yeah, that's exactly what it is. And giving me vibes that just tell me the Truman effect is the only possible answer. Then again, I'm an anxious person regardless, and it could just be that.

My eyes dart to a shiny key tucked slyly under the welcoming mat. Should've expected as much. Saves me the trouble of breaking a window and drawing suspicion to myself, at the very least.

I quickly slide into the house and lock the door behind me, collapsing onto the dusty floor beneath. Despite how musty the air was, I felt a strange sense of comfort being under a roof again.

God. Just what the hell transpired? One second I'm moping about life and the next I'm... here. Shouldn't I feel happy then? I'm finally away from everything that caused me pain. Everything that made me what I am now. And yet... I just can't. I can't be happy wherever this is supposed to be.

It's probably a stretch to say this, but I'm sure there were people who needed me as much as I needed them.

Not only that, but running away from my problems just means tossing them to someone else who has to take them on. It just means living a life on the run until my problems catch up to me.

What am I, some fugitive?

I can't help but rest my head against the door. The past, huh. No escaping it, erasing it, or forgetting it.

While letting my mind wander the multitude of possibilities that got me here, I clean the place up. Turns out, the place isn't half bad with a bit of touching up. Whoever abandoned it left the place with everything needed to live comfortably, sans food and the pile up of grime.

Almost instinctively, I go to the bedroom. It's rather drab, but there's no helping that, I suppose. There's an attached balcony, so I end up leaning against the railing and looking out at the neighbourhood.

"Bonjour, my unsuspecting townsfolk." I mutter to myself, while letting the cool breeze make a mess of my unkempt hair.

My gaze shifts to the right, as I start hearing the chatter of teenagers in the vicinity.

"Huh." I furrow my brows upon seeing the infringing persons. When did dyeing your entire hair become a thing? And... contacts too. "What the hell?"

There isn't a single person with hair or eyes that strike me as odd. Everyone, quite literally, looked like they were ripped out an anime.

But that, to me wasn't what made my pupils dilate. Oh, how I wish it did.

The tight fitting grey blazer, the brown, crosshatched sweater vest, white shirt, red ribbon, and of course, dark-blue pleated skirt.

I so desperately wished I didn't pick up on it when I did. My jaw instantaneously dropped when my mind put two and two together. It wasn't my schools uniform, but I sure as hell knew why this specific set of clothing evoked such a sense of dread within myself. The more I think about it, the less sense I can draw from the situation.

Confiding in anyone here is but a mere fantasy. Do they even speak English? Is this even on Earth to begin with? There's nothing that I can think of that can physically manifest naturally or made by man that could explain that enigma and the multitude of phenomena it exhibited.

Nothing humanly possible could shake my very core of being the way I felt before regaining my consciousness.

There really is no denying it now.

Maybe I really, really am in some sick, twisted stage play, forced to partake in this impromptu role of mine, making my discreet entrance unannounced.

In that case, the main question left for me to answer is both simple, yet daunting. What force beckoned me here? Who is the puppeteer pulling the strings? Or was it just a simple happenstance of fates cruel hand?

Just as I snapped back to reality, I notice a pair of green eyes I'd thought I'd never seen again.


	3. A Chance Meeting

My heart just wants to jump out of my chest.

My brain vehemently denies what my eyes are seeing.

I gulp, instinctively. My legs weaken.

Is that really her?

...It has to be. Who else wears such a large white bow with their ponytail like that?

I'm not scared of her, or for whatever past atrocities she's committed. For all I know, they haven't even transpired yet. But that, precisely is why I feel this much fear.

I'm scared because she's here.

Let me put it like this.

Say, Pokemon suddenly came over to the real world. Say they retain whatever physics allowed them to have whatever moveset they had from back there. Sure, you'd be overjoyed to no end that you can finally own a Skitty, Eevee, or Charmander... but what about the ramifications of the said hypothetical?

What about their incredibly overpowered moves? Wouldn't they inflict mass panic once malicious people got their hands on them? Truly, it's not the joy that one would feel about a fictional thing coming to life that should spark ones joy; rather, it should be the concern for what it entails.

This is exactly what's happening right now. The fact that she's before my very eyes is making my mind race. Who am I supposed to be in this scripted world? What is she up to?

I need more information. I continue to observe her from the balcony, but to my dismay, her eyes lock on to mine. I don't flinch; and I can't tell if it's because I'm momentarily fearless, or scared shitless.

Her expression... it's odd. I can feel her suspecting me from, well, a mile away; but at the same time it's not quite what I'd call a hostile glare. She stops in her tracks, and waits for the crowd to move past her, until it's just her, standing still there. It's an odd sight for any onlooker. but to me, it just raises more red flags.

Despite what transpires before me, all I can do is stare. Stare, and hope she doesn't bear any ill intent.

Seconds turn to minutes, until it's just her.

Just Monika.

Turning around again, she stares straight through my soul and smiles. And just as I blink, the very next second I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"You know, you could've just said hello, right?" A voice playfully whispers into my ear.

I turn around reflexively; my hands against the railing behind me for support.

"I don't know what to say." I reply hastily, while also trying my level best to not fall off from sheer shock.

"Cat got your tongue?" She jokes.

Her words might be sharp, but not enough to kill me. Not yet.

"Cat's out of the bag, I guess." I retort. She steps towards me, and leans forward, uncomfortably close.

"I thought as much." She pokes me, and then runs her finger up to my lips. "Quite an oddity we have here, hm?"

Unsure of what to do or say, I only manage to let out an awkward croak, partly in thanks to how awkward the situation I'm in is.

"I'm not the only one, then, huh..." She sighs; her voice suddenly a more somber tone. "Is it wrong to feel happy at someone elses demise?"

There's something ominous about the choice of words used, and I'm not liking the sinister aspect one bit.

"Only one?" I repeat, hoping too glean more information.

"Yes. Now I'm sure I'm not the only one with free will." She comments.

Hold up.

What?

I know people joke about how free will is an illusion and all that, but just what is she insinuating over here?

She quickly picks up on my confusion, and adds, "If the others around me had free will, don't you think they'd call the cops on some shady person appearing out of nowhere in an otherwise abandoned house?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"So you're telling me that the others are simply just preprogrammed robots? Wouldn't that make them seem like they were... in a game? How'd you figure that out?"

She nods, and casually answers, "I'd know, because I've lived this week several thousand weeks."

Right, of course. Was I expecting some mundane answer? I'm at least comforted knowing this Monika isn't one that erased someones existence or drove someone to insanity.

Yet, of course.

Not even three hours in, and I'm being hit with a flurry of outlandish information.

Well, since it's come to this, I might as well ask what might as well be the biggest question of them all at the moment.

"Let me guess, your name's Monika, with a 'k'?" I cock my head to the right, raising my own brow in reply.

Her dumbfounded look and sudden step back tell me all I need to know.

"How... how do you know that?" She asks, while her jaw remains dropped.

"I.. uh. I'm pretty sure I've seen you somewhere." I sheepishly laugh it off and make up a lie.

In actuality, I don't want to let her know where I obtained this information beforehand. Imagine someone telling you that you were just some character they remember playing in some video game. How would you feel? I'll let her know when the time comes, I suppose.

"So, I'm known in your world? Am I some fictional character?" She asks. "That's... a bit weird, when you think about it."

"How the hell did you come to that conclusion so fast? Or at all?!" I reply, in disbelief.

"No one stares with as much awe and familiarity as you did unless they saw someone they wouldn't normally expect to see. That, or you thought I'm very attractive!" She playfully winks.

How do I even begin to respond to that?

"Believe whichever you want." I mutter, partly out of embarrassment. "Speaking of which, how the hell did you just get up here instantaneously?"

"I don't know, actually. It's a bit like thinking in three dimensions. I visualize being there, and bam, I'm there! It takes a certain amount of something to do, though, so I can't do it on command. It's actually been the first time in ages that I've done it!" She takes a seat on the bed. "I'm pretty sure you should be able to, too."

"And what makes you think that?"

"You know how in games, you sometimes have a console window that allows you to manipulate yourself and the world around you? And how you're there, but only in the form of your avatar? It's a lot like that, except you _are_ your avatar, and have free will of your own. That's the best way I can put it."

"So that means us- us outsiders, should, in theory be able to manipulate this world at will?" I add.

"In theory, yes; I'm sure you've got a ton more latent control; after all, I seem to be a fictional character to you, and to me, everyone else seems like a scripted character." She posits. "It's like you've got the whole suite of administrator privileges while I just have the the ability to manipulate stuff."

"You mentioned being an outsider. If you've got this whole spatial control down, why can't you just go to wherever you came from?" I muse.

"I don't think I can. That... thing. It must've brought me to a whole other universe. And even if I could, in theory, escape, I've been through this cycle so many times that I've forgotten what life was like before coming here by the time I knew of it to begin with."

So that thing _was_ , in fact a wormhole. Albeit, one that took me out of my own universe.

"That's... depressing." I take a seat beside her.

Ah, how the world loves to toy around with me. There I was complaining about life, and now here I am, trying to deal with informational paradoxes that defy all established logic I had prior. Life truly does have a cruel sense of humor.

I made my choices, but in reality, the choices made me... well, me.

Seeing her go from an image to a sentient being I can naturally converse and interact with is quite the mental leap, but talking with her somehow eases the process a lot for me.

The two of us continue talking; not as otherworldly beings, but as equals. As humans. And frankly, she's every bit as charismatic as the game made her out to be. Hearing and seeing her in the flesh is oddly comforting and reassuring. Her questions for me are a little odd, and involve asking me what life was like back before this happened, and even the smallest things seem to pique her attention. I can't blame her; she lost all memory of what it means to live what could be called a relatively normal life. Now that I've been placed out of my element as well, it's not hard to see where she's coming from.

In fact, having an outlet in many ways is what keeps us sane. We're social animals, and having dynamic social relationships are tantamount to having a stable life. Now, imagine if you were tossed into a world not unlike that of a game, where every person you've met kept spitting out the same few lines, without no change, let alone form meaningful bonds with which you could form any sort of rapport.

And to live a few thousand weeks like that... I can only imagine how much suppressed emotions she's keeping from me now, and her relief is genuine. To lose ones own past is to forget what made oneself what they are in the present. Not even an existential crisis is an apt enough expression to describe what it must feel like.

Geez. What a taxing day it's been.

Tossed into some persons sick idea of a world, finding out I could be some nigh omnipotent entity with the right conditions, and, of course, that I'm talking with someone who I once thought existed as just a sprite and data behind a screen to meeting them in the flesh.

Monika is just as exhausted, if not more than I am already. It turns out that teleporting out of the blue after a long while took a lot of her, so she's resting. Well, more accurately, it's more like she just passed out in the middle of conversation and leaned on my shoulder, leaving me to deal with just about the same problem I face with a sleeping pet. If anything, it lets me collect my thoughts for a second time, after the massive revelations I was left to deal with, following her appearance.

How does this world exist? Science accounts for the possibility of a multiverse scenario thanks to how the inflation of the universe pans out, and how ambiguous the void outside of it is. There really is nothing to say that this isn't just some pocket dimension that the enigma I saw connects to, and, going by her words, other worlds too. Almost like a hub of sorts.

Even though she postulates that I could have godlike powers, I'm incredibly hesitant to believe it as such. The fact remains that I'm at a huge information gap here. I've barely been here a day. She's lived it for what I can only imagine must've been actual years. In order to make any lead whatsoever, I can only hope to piece together what I can, alone or otherwise. And yet... I begin to doubt the very idea of doing so.

I mean, if Monika could, she would've figured out something, wouldn't she? She's got time in droves, after all.

But saying that is nothing but a blanket statement given what I know already. Anyone in her shoes would've gone insane. Maybe even offed themselves out of loss of hope. I wouldn't put it past someone to lose grasp of reason and hope once all seems nigh impossible when the situation seems dire.

She's got an iron will, and there's nothing I can ever say that disproves it. The fact she sits beside me at the moment is simply testament to that.

My mind wanders off on it's own tangent, and before long the day dies, and night rises.

* * *

I must have passed out, myself.

Before my eyes is a painfully bright landscape. I've seen it many times, only to wake up, none the wiser. And almost always, it's the same scenario.

This time, however, something is off. Far more than I've ever seen the likes of before. In what I can only believe is an instant, the bright, white horizon turns a dark, empty black. I can see nothing. It reminds me of the time before I awoke in this world. Time accelerates to the point that it loses meaning, and then slows to almost a stop. A room is materializing bit by bit, inch by inch. It reminds me of things.

Happy memories. Sad ones, too.

It feels homely, yet cold.

Far, but only at a moments respite.

I see smiles my way. But so many, oh, so many feel so artificial. All but one.

An institution of learning? A closeted home?

What is this sickly feeling? Despair? Isolation?

Doubts. So many doubts. But there's only one face behind it. And as I reach out to remove its creepy smiling mask, I understand. I see.

My face. It smiles, just like its mask. Unnaturally. Artificially. I fall backwards.

I'm slowly going to end up as that, is all that goes through my mind in the moment.

A hand reaches out for me. It isn't my own. Rather, than pitiful, this one is sympathetic. And the face smiles.

Not like my masked self. No, it's a warm, gentle one. It's a face I know better than my own. It pull me up, and I feel the color return to the landscape.

From the drab and wistful noir to the clean slate of undyed being.

* * *

I wake up in a cold sweat. I'm taking in mouthfuls of air, like I'm starved for air after a long run. I can't remember what happened, but I felt nothing but dread on opening my eyes. I'm still here. The room isn't my own, as I expect.

My head hurts. I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling, honestly. I feel a flurry of fear and anger, and everything in between. I feel like an absolute mess. I don't even know why I feel the way I do.

"Hn..." I groan. I ruffle my already messy hair in a fit of frustration, having no better way to let it out.

A pair of emerald eyes glance at mine, momentarily, before looking away.

Monika's still here?

"You looked like you were having a nightmare. Are you alright?" I hear her murmur.

"No, I need a moment to collect myself." I exhale. So much for being a pillar of support when I look like I'm about to crumble...

She smiles, reassuringly. "We have all the time in the world to ourselves. Take your time."

Well, she's not wrong...

"I wasn't expecting you to stick around, actually." I comment, "I can't imagine staying in this musty mess of a place is comfortable for you,"

She pouts. "Well, it's a lot more comfortable having company, if you ask me."

I can't help but sheepishly laugh a little. She's been nothing but helpful since our fateful encounter. She's got the charisma of a leader, no doubt.

"Maybe." There's just something about that simple, sudden reason that's endearing. "It's the little things that count, after all."

She flashes me a toothy grin. "Besides, it's the least I could do for pestering you on for hours."

"Oh, stop. I wasn't bothered by it at all." I wave my hands in the air, dismissing that claim.

"Say what you will." She gets up off the bed, raising her shoulders in indecision. "So, what now?"

I pause, and let my mind wander off.

I really have nothing. Sure, I'm all talk, theorizing as much as the next theoretical physicist or Hououin Kyouma, but I, honest to God have no idea where to start off.

"I've got nothing," I deadpan. "Maybe explore?"

Monika ponders for a second, then faces me with a mischievous grin.

"If you get bored of doing that, you could always tag along with me to school." She sticks her tongue playfully, being an obvious tease.

Never thought I'd see the day that I would actually look forward to attending school, and hey, if going to school helps preventing a potential existential crisis, I'll take it.

Taking her suggestion to heart, I give her a grin of my own as my answer.

* * *

Apologies for the short second chapter; I meant for it to be more of a bridging chapter than a full fledged one, and had to cut it short to maintain its cliffhanger. Nonetheless, I tried to get this one out fast enough to move the story on, and establish some world building, and a teaser for my poems to come. I was also looking to firmly establish Monikas personality and do her justice better than in the first rendition of this, as I felt like she was incredibly inconsistently written, along with the haphazard manner of pacing at pivotal moments.

As you can probably guess, I was taking an experimental route with the dream sequence, and I'd love to get critique on the writing now compared to before, and how it is overall. Of course, your takes on where the direction is going and queries are, as always gladly accepted, too!


End file.
